


Opia

by humanveil



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Soft Kylux, Touch-starved Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Kylo is a professional cuddler. Hux is a lonely, touch starved, thirty something with cash to spare.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> add this to the list of things i didn't think i'd ever be writing. it's not my fault, really. i saw [this video](https://www.facebook.com/EliteDaily/videos/1279650645419898/) and my brain yelled "kylux au" and i tried to tell it no, i really did, but im weak when it comes to touch starved hux, so here we are.

He’s drunk when he comes across the ad.

It’s on his Facebook feed – and he isn’t even sure _why_ he’s on there in the first place; he only ever uses the site to keep track of business partners – but here he is, scrolling until the screen is a blur of white and black and blue.

The ad is the first thing to catch his eye, the words _professional cuddler_ making him pause.

He doesn’t remember clicking the link and booking an appointment, just knows he’d regretted it upon receiving the confirmation email the next day. He doesn’t have the time to look up how to refund it, so he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his booking, and tells himself that he just won’t go.

But, when the day arrives, he finds himself driving to the listed address. He blames it on his own curiosity, though he knows that isn’t entirely true.

He goes there straight from work, wishing he’d had a drink or two beforehand. He wonders, briefly, if he should stop at his own home first to change, but decides against it. He probably won’t even stay.

The apartment building looks the same as any other, and he barely looks around as he enters it, smoothing down the panels of his suit jacket as he finds the designated room. When he does, he knocks against the wood three times and waits.

The man that opens the door takes one look at him before breaking out in a quiet laugh, and Hux wants to walk away immediately. Or punch him. Or both.

“What?” he asks, tone obviously annoyed.

“You cuddle in a suit?”

Hux sighs. He’d known it was a mistake coming, and this only confirmed it. He doesn’t bother responding, just turns to leave.  He’s barely taken two steps when the words _no, wait_ are called out, a hand wrapping around his wrist to keep him in place. He stops walking, his gaze flicking towards the fingers that enclose his wrist.

“Sorry,” the man says. “I didn’t mean... It’s fine. I can lend you something. You are Hux, right?”

He still wants to turn back and leave, but the man’s giving him some kind of puppy eyes, and Hux finds himself nodding, following him into the apartment despite his better judgement.  The man lets go of his hand once they’re inside, door shutting quietly behind them.

The calm atmosphere of the apartment washes over Hux instantly. He’s lead into a cosy room filled with plants and paintings, a mattress built out of pillows and blankets on the floor’s centre. It all looks soft, and clean, and Hux thinks it might not be as bad as originally anticipated.

The man disappears into another room as Hux looks around, gaze trailing over some of the canvases that line the walls. They’re filled with soft colours and calming images, and fit in perfectly with the rest of the room.

“Like them?” the man says as he walks back into the room, a small bundle of clothes in his hands. “They’re mine. I’m an artist when I’m not painting.”

Of course he is, Hux thinks. “They’re lovely,” he answers truthfully, if stoically, and the man’s face lights up at the approval.

“Here,” he says, passing the clothes to Hux. “Bathroom is second on the right.”

Hux takes them with a nod, making his way to the right room. It feels odd, undressing in a stranger’s bathroom, but he still strips the suit off, leaving it resting on the edge of the sink. It needs a dry clean, anyway.

He’d been given a pair of grey sweats and a plain black V-neck, and he puts them on quickly, rolling the pants twice so they fit his hips better. The shirt hangs from his frame, the difference between his size and the man’s painfully obvious. They’re comfortable, though. Much better than the suit.

He feels nervous as he walks out of the bathroom, the realisation that he can’t just leave now hitting him. Cuddling someone is a ridiculous thing to worry over, he knows, but he can’t shake the anxiety that flutters in his stomach. He’s out of his element, and he hates it.

The man stares at him when he returns, tongue running across his bottom lip as his eyes lingering just _that_ _side_ of too long. Hux pretends not to notice, chooses instead to ask, “What’s your name?”

“You didn’t see it on the site?”

Hux shakes his head. He barely remembers the site at all.

The man smiles at him, as if he knows something Hux doesn’t. “It’s Kylo.”

“Right,” Hux murmurs, exhaling slowly. He remembers reading it now, remembers thinking _what kind of name is that_ , remembers concluding that anyone who worked as a professional cuddler probably wasn’t to be considered _normal_.

“I can tell you’re nervous,” Kylo says quietly, moving towards him. “You’re all tense. Try and relax.”

Before Hux can respond with something snarky, Kylo’s hands are grabbing at his wrists again, the touch warm against Hux’s cool skin. He pulls him down onto the array of pillows, and Hux obediently follows, sitting down in front of Kylo.

“What would you like to do?”

Hux sighs at the question. He has no idea what he wants, has no idea what the options even _are_. It’s been so long since he’d been intimate with someone like this, the memories felt like faded half dreams. He’s not even sure if what he remembers is real.

“I…” he starts, and trails off. He hates himself for being like this; for being unsure, for not being in perfect control. It feels wrong. “I don’t…”

Kylo seems to take pity on him, and Hux is almost glad.

“Alright,” Kylo says, voice gentle. “Why don’t we start with something nice and easy, then?”

He lays down back against the makeshift mattress, settling into the nest of pillows, and pulls Hux along with him. They lie on their sides, facing each other, their bodies close but not quite touching. Slowly, Kylo reaches a hand out to Hux’s shoulder, the heel of his palm massaging it gently, his fingers pressing into the flesh. His eyes are trained on Hux’s, and Hux stares back at him, the rest of the room melting away until all he can see are the soft hues of Kylo’s eyes.

Hux’s body reacts to the touch like gasoline would to a flame. It’s as if sparks chase Kylo’s touch, filling him with something he can’t describe but something he knows he wants more of.

An undistinguishable emotion swells in his throat, and Hux tries to swallow it down. It’s pathetic, he thinks, to be getting this worked up over lying next to someone, but it had been so long, _too long_ , since he’d had any type of affection that the prospect of receiving some is enough to put him on edge. Kylo’s thumb ghosts across his throat, and Hux breathes a shaky breath.

He feels vulnerable; laid bare. As if this man – this _stranger_ – can hear every thought that passes through his brain, can see every deep seated insecurity that he tries so, _so_ hard to hide. It’s a lot to take in, it’s _too much_ , and he can’t – he doesn’t—

Hux shifts forward, pressing their bodies together and burying his face in the crook of Kylo’s neck. Kylo welcomes him, strong arms wrapping around his smaller frame, holding him securely as Hux tries to gather the remnants of his control. His lips brush over Kylo’s exposed skin as he breathes heavily, and he pretends he can’t feel the sting of tears that press against his eyelids.

“There we go,” Kylo murmurs, one hand moving to cradle Hux’s head, fingers threading through the hair. He’d known something wasn’t right with this client, that there’d been a mess of emotions yearning to break free behind the indifferent façade. He doesn’t ask about it now, though; has enough experience to know not everyone wants to talk about it.

Instead, he does his job. He holds him, rocking their bodies back and forth in a way he hopes is comforting. Hux’s hands clutch at his shirt, fingers tangling with the fabric, and Kylo wonders if he even realises he’s doing it.

Hux’s eyes stay shut as Kylo hugs him, his body melting against the larger frame. His earliest memories come back to him, days where his mother had held him, memories from before he’d been taken away to a world where any and all emotion was classified as a weakness. It’s a shock to see them play behind his eyes; he’d thought they’d been successfully repressed.

He thinks, perhaps, that’s why this feels like _too_  much.

They stay that way for a while, Hux’s breathing evening out over time, the solid weight of Kylo next to him more comforting than he’d imagined it could be. It’s… odd. He hasn’t been touched like this in years – decades, even – and he hadn’t quite realised what it would do to him. He feels like he’s being stripped of every defence mechanism he’s ever put in place, as if the more time he spends in Kylo’s arms, the more walls he’d put between himself and the world will crash to the ground.

It’s a scary thought; absolutely fucking petrifying to know that a stranger can do that to him.

And yet, he finds he doesn’t want to leave.

“You okay?” Kylo asks him after some lime, lips moving against his hairline as they form the words.

Hux breaths out slowly, the warm breathe tickling Kylo’s neck. He has no idea if he’s alright; can’t decide if this is the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to him. So he doesn’t answer the question, just says, “I’m not usually like this.”

He doesn’t know why, but he feels a need to point it out. Needs Kylo to know that he usually has complete control over himself, his emotions.

Above him, Kylo’s lips stretch into a small smile. “There’s no judgement from me, you know,” he murmurs. “I’ve seen worse.”

“That’s comforting,” Hux tells him, voice coloured with a tinge of sarcasm. “I suppose everyone has a crisis when they come here?”

He draws back from Kylo, feeling like he needs more room to breathe. Kylo lets him go, shifting their bodies around so Hux can lean his back against Kylo’s chest, both their faces looking up at the ceiling. He makes sure to keep his arms wrapped loosely around Hux’s shoulders, though.

“You haven’t started sobbing yet,” Kylo tells him. “So you’ve got a long way to go.”

Hux really doesn’t think he’s that far from it – which is utterly ridiculous, considering he hasn’t cried since he was eleven – but he doesn’t say that, just hums and tries to not feel.

Kylo continues to touch him, to rub his hands down his sides and over his arms, to poke and prod at his body in a way that is entirely foreign. It wasn’t that he’d never been with someone before, it was just that he’d never stuck around long enough for anything remotely like this to occur.

“Why do you do it?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Fingers pressing into Hux’s side, trailing along the bones that can still be felt through flesh and fabric, Kylo’s answer is simple. “Because people need it.”  

*

When their hour is up, Hux is half asleep and has no desire to move. But he gets up and changes back into his suit, handing Kylo his payment with a hint of a smile on his face.

Kylo walks him to the door despite it only being a few meters away. “I hope you got what you needed,” he says, and Hux merely nods, scared of what he might say if he opens his mouth to respond.  

As he’s walking away, Kylo yells out something about repeat appointments, and Hux makes a note to check it out when he gets home.


	2. Chapter 2

Two months go by without a word.

It’s distressing. Kylo had thought Hux would come back, had hoped he would, because it really did seem like Hux needed it. But he doesn’t.

He considers writing Hux an email, unable to feel at ease knowing he’d just let him walk away, but he decides against it. The other man was obviously sorting _something_ out, and he sees no need to make it worse, so he just tries to forget.

Which goes perfectly fine, until he gets an appointment request.

The information is exactly the same as Hux’s previous appointment, and Kylo feels an odd mix of nerves and relief wash over him when he sees the name. He’s quick to confirm the booking, does it without even making sure he’s free for the designated time. He’d cancel plans if he had to, it didn’t matter.

This, somehow, feels much more important.

*

Kylo spends more time than usual setting up the apartment. He keeps the clothes Hux had worn last time on hand, just in case, and fiddles with the decorations, changing the arrangement of the mattress four times. He goes to do it once more when there’s a knock on the door.

He moves towards it quickly, eyes widening in surprise when he sees Hux on the other side.

Put simply, the man looks a mess. He wears a suit without the blazer, the fabric damp from rain, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to the elbow to reveal pale forearms. Stray strands of red hair fall in front of his face, and under them Kylo can make out the dark circles beneath his eyes. His shoulders slump with exhaustion, his face tired. He looks nothing at all like the man Kylo had first met.

“Hi,” Hux says, and Kylo raises his eyebrows at him.

He repeats the greeting, drawing the word out, and lets Hux through to the apartment. “You look...” he starts, and then cuts himself off, sighing. “When was the last time you slept?”

Hux brings a hand to his face, the heel of his palm rubbing at his eye before he rakes his fingers through his hair, getting it out of his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admits. “A couple of days ago.”

“Why?”

“Work,” Hux says, as if it explains everything.

Maybe it does, but Kylo still asks, “What do you do?”

“I’m an executive for my father’s company. They’re releasing a new product, so...” he trails off with a sigh, mouth twisting into a grimace. “No rest until it’s done.”

“And how long will it be till it’s done?” Kylo asks, trying to sound less worried than he actually is. He moves past Hux to grab the spare clothes, and Hux takes them from him with a nod of thanks.

“I finished an hour ago.”

“And you came straight here?”

Hux shrugs. Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to leave after the first session; had spent the months following thinking about it, about how he’d felt, about _Kylo_. It had thrown him off his game, needless to say, but he’d still wanted more. Had longed for the relaxed feeling he’d experienced.

“I don’t have anything better to do,” he tells him instead, and Kylo smiles.

“Alright,” he says, nodding his head towards the hallway. “Get changed and we can start.”

*

Hux feels more comfortable the second time around, more confident.

When they settle on the mattress and Kylo asks what he wants, he doesn’t say anything, just turns to his side, head resting on the bundle of pillows, and pulls Kylo’s arm around his torso. Kylo catches on, shifting behind him so they’re pressed chest to back, one arm under his head and the other holding Hux in place.

He thinks, maybe, it might be too much, but he drops his head to the crevice of Hux’s neck, warm breath ghosting over the skin exposed by the too large shirt. “This okay?” he asks, because he wants to make sure, would hate himself if he made Hux uncomfortable.

To Kylo’s surprise, Hux leans into it, a soft sigh sounding as he nods.

It’s better than okay, if Hux is honest. Their bodies seem to slot together perfectly, and Hux loves the solid weight of Kylo behind him, loves the way his lips brush his neck when he speaks. He wonders, idly, if this is what all of Kylo’s appointments are like; wonders just how close Kylo has got to some clients. He doesn’t ask, though. It seems insensitive.

They’re like that for a while, spooned together, the room filled with the sound of their breathing and the pitter patter of rain outside. At some point, Kylo wraps a blanket around them, and Hux basks in the feeling of _calm_ that seems almost tangible. He nearly dozes off, caught in a space of being half awake and half asleep.

The silence is broken by Kylo, though, who can’t stop himself from speaking. He nuzzles Hux’s neck, voice barely a whisper as he confesses, “I was worried about you, you know.”

Immediately, Hux is a little more awake, his chest twisting at the words. He doesn’t remember the last time anyone had said something like that to him, let alone a stranger. (Are they strangers? He doesn’t know, can’t decide. They don’t feel like strangers. He doesn’t want to be strangers).

He turns in Kylo’s arms, shifting so they’re face to face. “Really?”

Kylo hums and looks down at him through his eyelashes, their faces so close together they almost touch. “Really,” he whispers. “I was hoping you’d come back. I was sad when you didn’t.”

Hux’s lips twitch, a breathy, barely there laugh escaping him. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he says, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. He leans forward until his head rests against Kylo’s chest, cushioned by the muscle there.

Kylo welcomes him, resting his chin atop Hux’s hair and moving his hands to sit at Hux’s waist. It’s tiny, he thinks, as he rubs his hands against the flesh, fingers reaching to touch each other on Hux’s back.

“I think you need it,” Kylo continues. “More than a lot of people who come here.”

Hux doesn’t answer for a moment, _can’t_ answer, but Kylo catches the small _I think I do too_ when it’s finally said.

Kylo holds him tighter. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, and Hux doesn’t need to ask what _it_ is. “I mean, I’m no therapist. But sometimes people talk.”

Hux is taken aback by the offer. He hadn’t expected to do much talking, hadn’t expected to _want_ to talk, but Kylo seemed to be able to make him want things he wouldn’t usually want.

It’s weird. This whole thing is just fucking _weird_. Had they met at a bar, Hux knows Kylo is exactly the type of person he would pick up; the type he’d take home and fuck and then kick out afterwards like the cold hearted bastard he was known to be. He almost wishes that _was_ how they’d met, wishes he could’ve saved himself the inner turmoil coming here had caused.

Almost.

“I don’t know why I…” Hux starts, and then stops. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain it. “I didn’t think I’d react that way.”

“How did you think you’d react?”

Hux shrugs, pressing his face into Kylo’s chest as he speaks. “I didn’t expect to stay.”

Kylo hums again. He’d figured as much. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for people to book appointments and then leave five minutes in. He knows it’s not for everyone, he just thinks it might work for Hux.

“I’m glad you chose to,” Kylo says, voice sincere.

“Me too.”

“And I’m glad you came back.”

Hux nods, his own arms tightening around Kylo. “Me too,” he repeats, and he does mean it.

He thinks that, one day, maybe, he’ll tell Kylo about his experiences with affection, about his lack of comfort as a child and the blur of failed relationships in his adolescence, of his avoidance of intimacy as an adult. But now… is not that time. Now, he burrows further into the nest of warmth and comfort that Kylo has created. Let’s himself relax.

He feels Kylo kiss his forehead, the press of lips soft and sweet, and it sends a tingle down Hux’s spine. It makes him feel safe; protected in a way he hasn’t felt in years.

“You should sleep,” Kylo murmurs, a hand moving from Hux’s waist to his hair, brushing the strands back with gentle movements.

A content noise leaves Hux, coming from somewhere at the back of his throat, and he feels almost embarrassed. “I don’t think there’s much left of our appointment.”

“So stay longer,” Kylo says, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not going to charge you.”

The words bring back that same swell of emotions from their first encounter, the same feelings that had clogged his throat and left him unable to speak. Hux tries to get impossibly closer to Kylo, tries to hold on tighter.

“You don’t have to do that,” he murmurs.

“I want to,” Kylo says, and his lips are pressing against Hux’s forehead again, his cheek.

Hux sighs, leans into each touch Kylo gives him. He wants it, if he’s honest with himself. Wants everything. “Okay,” he whispers, and he can feel Kylo grin.

He falls asleep ridiculously easy, now that he knows he can, and Kylo isn’t far behind. It should feel weird, but it doesn’t; their two bodies already perfectly at ease with each other.

When they wake up, it’s nearing seven o’clock. Their bodies are intertwined, the both of them looking dishevelled, minds clouded with sleep. But they’re content, happy.

Kylo’s stomach growls, and he offers Hux the chance to stay for dinner, says he can make a mean pasta. For reasons he can’t explain, Hux agrees, and is pleasantly surprised when what Kylo makes is more than edible. They eat at the kitchen bench, thighs and arms touching as they exchange snarky comments and personal stories.

It’s nice. It’s _easy_. It feels like they’ve been doing it for years.

Afterwards, when Hux finally leaves, Kylo gives him a hug and a kiss to the cheek, makes him promise he’ll come back. “Not even for an appointment,” he says. “Just... as friends.”

Eyes smiling, Hux nods. It’s the best idea he’s heard in a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos = ♡♡♡
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/irnstrk) / [tumblr](http://humanveil.tumblr.com/)


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